


Broken Toys (A Robo Fizz Romance)

by freeadvertisingspace



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Contracts, Demon Deals, Demons, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Multi, Office Sex, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 08:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30102981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freeadvertisingspace/pseuds/freeadvertisingspace
Summary: A newly dead demon girl indebted to Mammon is forced to harbor the star of his destroyed park, Loo Loo Land. Not only does she have to oversee his repairs & bring his show back, she has to make it better than ever no matter what it takes. Being the Greed demon's favorite 'assistant' won't save her if she fails or disobeys. With Samara trapped in a gilded cage and the robotic Fizzarolli shackled to a crumbling stage, can the two find common ground and maybe more during their time together? Can there be a slice of Heaven this deep in Hell?May be slightly OOC and slightly AU possibly due to filling in lore and guesswork as best I can. (Update: definitely somewhat AU do to a dead soul in the other rings. Also if course it'll get more non-canon as Vivziepop adds more episodes. But I'll do what I can lol!)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. A Hell of a Deal

Fragrant soap mixed with thick white face paint in the base of the porcelain tub, racing toward the drain in bubbly streams. It couldn't be seen, or smelled like the soft floral scent of roses from the suds, but mixed in were also a demon girl's tears, cried bitterly under the hot spray. Samara scrubbed viciously at her skin until the soft petal pink turned an angry red and burned under the onslaught. There seemed to be nothing she could do to rinse the shame from her. It had been two years since she'd died. She'd survived two cleansings, with the most recent being a couple of weeks ago. She had been 'lucky' enough to be taken under the wing of the high-ranked demon Mammon. He'd offered his protection from the Angels in exchange for favors. What exactly those _favors_ entailed changed from day to day. The closest thing she could call herself was his errand girl or personal assistant. No one had been there to warn Samara of the dangers of accepting deals from demons, especially high ranking ones. When she arrived in Hell it had been just before the first cleansing, and she had been horrified, had almost died again. She'd had no place to hide and took the only out she could see...

_Samara's shoes splashed through puddles of slick blood as she scrambled through the streets. Horrifying shrieks and screams echoed from all directions, and the bodies littering the soaked pavement resembled pincushions with the jagged spears and knives sticking out of them. 'What is happening?! Where can I hide?' She sobbed as she ran, fear propelling her forward though she had no idea where she was going. She'd just died not hours before & she knew she was in Hell. She had no help, no knowledge of this place. All of the surrounding buildings were boarded up against the enemy, which was Angels of all things! Angels who were supposed to be light, winged creatures that looked after humans, or so that's how they had seemed in the stories she'd been told when she was alive and a little girl. She'd been told that everyone had a guardian angel to protect them. So, where was hers now? Every door she'd banged on and begged to be let into had remained barred while the fearful inhabitants inside had screamed at her to fuck off before she drew too much attention. The Angels circled above like vultures with sinister glowing Cheshire grins, plucking off others as they chose. So far they'd ignored her presence. That changed quickly however as more of the other civilians fell and there were less targets to keep them distracted. Three of the winged fiends descended silently and quickly as an owl, and dropped down to surround the terrified girl, who slipped on a pile of viscera and came crashing to her knees. She scooted away from the Angel whose feet she'd fallen at only to nearly bump into the knees of the one behind her. A razor sharp, vicious-looking spear was quickly brought to her throat as they closed in. They never spoke, even when Samara started to shriek and beg for her life. 'This is it!' She thought, whimpering when the blade began to draw blood. There was no mercy in their gaze, they simply looked at her like cats who'd caught a plump rat and were playing with their prey. 'What will happen to my soul? Can I die again?' She shut her eyes as one of them, the tallest of the trio, loomed above her and raised its weapon to finish her off. Just as it began to plunge straight for her heart, a voice called out in a clear and demanding bark_

_"Wait!" The Angels stopped and looked towards the sound, which had come from behind her main executioner. When they turned and stepped aside, she saw the last kind of person she would have expected. He was clearly a demon just like everyone else she'd encountered, but a jester? He radiated power and a menacing smirk stretched his mouth unnaturally wide, turning what could have been a welcoming expression into a twisted parody with the malice shining in his gleaming eyes adding a veiled, unspoken threat. "Stand down. I want to talk to this one. Haven't you killed enough tonight? I saw some stragglers fleeing south, a lot more than just this one scrawny girl. Go entertain yourselves there. I'll call you back if your services are required."_

_Her almost-killer hissed at the demon, it's feathers fluffing up angrily, but in the end it gestured to its companions and they all flew off in the direction the stranger had suggested. After they'd flown out of sight, Samara let out a breath of relief, then the stress hit her all at once now that the adrenaline was wearing off and she started bawling. "Thank you so much!" She cried, wiping her eyes with her dirty sleeve.  
_

_The jester knelt down and regarded her carefully, that creepy smile still plastered on his face. "It was no problem. Those Exorcist types are so damn easy to thwart if you've got the right connections and serve them the right bait." The distant bloodcurdling screams coming from the direction they'd headed helped punctuate his point, and his smile widened even further. "I bet you're wondering why I saved your ass just now."_

_Samara nodded frantically. "Yeah and I don't even know what the hell is going on here! Why are Angels killing everyone? They're supposed to be the good guys!"  
_

_A manic cackle erupted from the jester demon as he threw back his head, the bells on his hat jingling. When he regained himself he shook his head, amused by her naïveté. "Oh, wow. You've got a **lot** to learn about the world. That's just adorable. To answer your question about what's going on, every year in Hell there is a cleansing to combat overpopulation. Had you been killed by those Angels your very being would have ceased to exist. Just 'Poof!'" He snapped his fingers for emphasis and Samara jumped, the thought of absolute nothingness terrifying her even further. "As for why I saved you, I did a little reading on the most recent dead and tracked you down. Your background in circus showbizz would be great for my business, and I'm in need of a new personal assistant. The last one was such a fucking bore, and he ratted my secrets out to the other demons! For FREE! He's probably around here somewhere, what's left of the poor shmuck. My name is Mammon. I'm the demon of Greed, and a high-ranking member of Hell. I can protect you for the rest of eternity. So, what do you say? You can either work for me and survive, oooor I can call our feathery friends back right now." Samara was already shaking her head, grasping at his wrist when he lifted his hand to his mouth as though to cup it and shout to the Angels.  
_

_"No, nononono I'll do it! I'll do whatever you want just please don't let them hurt me! Please!!"  
_

_Satisfied, Mammon lowered his hand and held it outstretched to her instead, palm facing up, and clawed fingers splayed in anticipation of her own. "So, we have a deal then, Samara?" She didn't question how he knew her name, considering all he'd said before about researching her. Without hesitation, Samara gripped his hand in her own. His fingers closed around hers like a vice and his claws dug harshly into her flesh through his gloves. As soon as their hands made contact, an eerie red aura erupted from their sealed hands, filled with swirling symbols & forming quickly into chains that wound themselves around their wrists then faded as quickly as they'd appeared. Mammon's face lit up with glee at the sight, and a soft evil chuckle rumbled in his throat._

_"Good girl..." he purred close to her ear, his sharpened teeth brushing the flesh, raising goosebumps and sending a shiver racing down her spine. She had no idea the binding pact she had just agreed to, or how much of her freedom she'd just tossed away...  
_

Samara sighed sadly as the memory finished replaying in her mind, as it did so often with a mixture of regret and resignation. What else could she have done? Now, since Mammon was Greed itself, anything she did for him was always in the name of money, except for the occasions he'd called her to his more _personal_ services. Tonight had been such a night. Samara scoffed, realizing that even that was based mainly around money, even though she had to admit her demon form had ended up attractive, at least it was to her and her opinion was verified by the reactions of those around her. Why hire a hooker or pay to charm some girl when he could just order her to bed? She was strictly off limits to others though without his express permission. Mammon made it very clear that anyone who dared to meddle with what he considered _his_ would suffer unimaginable horrors, as a few unlucky souls had learned personally the first few months that Samara had been working for him. She'd thought about refusing, dreamed of it every time his hands were on her skin, when his teeth clamped down on her neck, and when his painted lips ravaged hers, but she knew that any resistance would see her tied up and set out like a pretty wrapped present topped with a bow for the Exorcists next year. It wasn't that he was unattractive as far as demons were concerned, it was the inability to choose that wore at her, and made her feel guilt and shame any time her body would betray her and respond to his touch. She'd been sent home this time after several rounds of particularly rough sex to the admittedly fabulous apartment he'd set her up in instead of being ordered to stay the night at his place.

Mammon's pet project, Loo Loo Land, had been burned to the ground and he was _livid_ , angrier than she could ever remember seeing him. He'd flipped a desk and thrown several objects at her and other employees, and tonight every bit of his fury and stress had been poured into Samara's body, who had limped her way to the car he'd sent for her use and gone home to clean off the jester makeup that had rubbed off on her and tend her blossoming bruises in the shower, and question her life's and death's decisions for the millionth time. She stayed there in her personal sanctuary until the water ran cold, then dried herself off and dressed in just an oversized tee shirt to go to bed. A dreamless sleep took her, and all was peaceful and dark...


	2. Duty Calls

" _ **Shit!**_ " Samara woke with a start to her phone's ringtone going off, the one she'd set for Mammon! She hauled herself from the bed, rushing to her pants that were still in the bathroom. Her muscles screamed in protest from their abuse the night before and she tumbled to her knees on the hard tile floor for a moment with a curse before hurrying again. She yanked the cell phone out of her pocket and answered it right before it went to voicemail. "Yes sir?" Her voice was breathless, but her boss either didn't notice or didn't care. "You need me immediately? Umm should I shower first or—oh not _that_ kind of meeting? Strictly actual business? Yeah, of course sir, I'll be right there!" She hung up and scrambled all over to get dressed. Mammon still seemed irritated, though he was a bit calmer than he had been, so she was hopeful. Not screaming at her and threatening was a good sign. If he was in good humor, maybe they could even get along for a while. He wasn't... so horrible when he was happy, but like all important demons he was incredibly dangerous when riled.

Truth be told, Samara blamed herself more than anyone for her situation. If she just hadn't been so damned gullible, hadn't gotten herself into tough situations even in life, maybe she wouldn't have ended up in Hell at all. Maybe she would have had the sense to read the metaphorical fine print of her contract. Since it wasn't a booty call for lack of a better term, she grabbed up a tight keyhole black top with shoulder cutouts and long sleeves, whitewash jeans, and slipped on comfortable knee high boots over those, hiding the funky striped toe socks that were her favorites underneath. It always made her smile to wear something a little goofy under her professional gear. She combed out her long white hair and pulled it into a high ponytail, contemplating cutting it so it wouldn't get so damned tangled in the night and turn into a bird's nest in only 8 hours. Her makeup didn't take long either, mostly just dramatic winged eyeliner and mascara. An easy 5 minute face. Satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her favorite bat shaped purse, a Cherry PopTartarus and dashed out the door.

Mammon had provided a car once again. She made a mental note to see if he'd just finally give her her own to save on needing a driver. If it meant more money in the bank he'd probably acquiesce. The drive through the city was the same as always. Samara munched diligently on her breakfast while they passed hookers and drug dealers going about their mornings, and several fights down the various alleys. The stink of sweat, piss, body odors, and various smoke managed to permeate the vehicle even with the windows rolled up. She wrinkled her nose, but there wasn't much to be done about it. When they reached Mammon's, she found him in his office, pouring over paperwork with a large, towering stack of bills piled off to the side. He always liked to count his profits personally when he was stressed. He was rubbing his temple with one gloved hand, demonic eyes narrowed to two narrow slits.

"Morning boss." Samara greeted him nervously with a little wave. His unnerving gaze flicked up towards her, and his trademark grin spread wide across his painted face.

"Well, _there's_ my favorite lady! Samara, _**Samara**_ it's good to see you. I really have to thank you for last night. Hey, sorry I was so rough with you, I really should be more careful with my best toy, but this Loo Loo Land situation is driving me up a goddamn wall! Have you _seen_ the paperwork?" He gestured to the pile. "This is going to take fucking weeks to sort out, even with you around." He leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up which were encased in classic jester shoes and crossing them, smirking. "Reconstruction on the park has already begun though."

"Wow, that was fast." Samara edged toward him and took a seat on the other side of the desk, which was either a replacement or looking pretty great considering its misadventure the night before to the opposite side of the room. He peered over his toes at her, jester bells tinkling gently when he tilted his head dramatically to regard her as she continued. "From the way you're talking, it must be going well."

He shrugged, resting his fingers together as he contemplated. "Well, fortunately the place was already falling apart. Frankly, it was a shithole and I knew it. I was planning on a total renovation soon anyway. I just wanted to wait a _little_ longer to rack up more of that sweet sucker cash." He rubbed his fingers together and giggled. "But, since everything was so broken down I'm not really losing much. Except the merchandise, that I am truly fucking pissed about. And, there's one other thing. Sammy dear, you've met Fizzarolli haven't you?"

Samara actually blushed at this, and she prayed to, well who knew anymore, that he didn't catch it. "Yes sir, you _loaned_ me to him a few months back."

"Oh yeah that's right! I owed him for doing a couple of extra promotional shoots, and I felt like your company for a night would be a nice treat." He stared at her lecherously.

Samara smiled grimly. "Well, he sure seemed to think so." Oddly enough, Fizzarolli had actually been the most fun she'd had since she'd been sent to Hell. He was good in the sack so she didn't have to suffer through like she had for many others and his vibrant personality uplifted her mood a good bit. He told the best jokes. But, that still didn't erase the fact that she couldn't say no if she'd wanted to without severe risk of repercussion from Mammon. It made it hard to consent when you literally had no other choice. Her boss's voice jolted her out of her reverie. 

" _Anyway_ , with that whole thing aside, you also knew about his robotic double working at the park didn't you? He took up a small fortune to build, an exact replica of our dear Fizzarolli in every way, down to his personality and voice. He was also a brilliant mixture of some biology and machine, borrowed technology from some unknowing friends, so he could be better for _'certain services_ '. He was severely damaged in the fire. One of the salvagers called him FUBAR. Fucked beyond all repair, but _I_ know better. I've got a fantastic mechanic in my debt at my factory who can do the job, and quick."

Samara shifted in her seat nervously. "Where do I fit into this whole situation? What exactly do you want me to do?"

He held a hand up. "Hold your tits, babygirl, I'm getting to that! I need you to be my eyes and ears overseeing his repairs. It's absolutely CRUCIAL that he be restored. I've sunk too much damned money into that mechanical jester to lose him now! I also have one more _teensy-weensy_ little stipulation. I know that you're a skilled dancer and performer. You worked in a circus during your lifetime, doing every job that you could. That's one of the many reasons I scraped you off of the streets of Hell to work for me. I also know that you sing, even though you still haven't done it for me yet. I want you to do whatever it takes to get the Fizzarolli and Friends show back up and running, better than ever! I'm building everything bigger and better than before! Lucifer's Park will look like a _joke_ compared to us when I'm through! A **bad** one! I'm pulling out all the stops and sparing no expense this time. Of course, I'm still cutting whatever corners I can get away with, you'd be amazed how cheap child labor is these days! But, everything will be new. I just need you to guard the robotic Fizzarolli in your apartment while he's being rebuilt. Take him to and from the mechanic every day on your way here to help me with this paper trail shitstorm. I don't want anyone knowing where he is staying or stealing my ideas and the star of my park! There are a lot of weird perverted cheapskate fans what would just loooove to get their sticky mits on my robot. So take him and keep him safe, is. That. **_Clear_**?” With every word he leaned closer and closer to her face.

Samara's heart sunk. If this robot was an exact copy of the real thing, she was going to have a literal Hell on her hands. Her apartment was her last safe and untouched haven away from her job, and away from Hell's often unpleasant inhabitants. Now she'd be sharing her sacred space with some burnt out clown robot?? "SIR! YOU CANT BE SERI— ** _mmph!!!_** " She was silenced by Mammon coming across the desk violently and pinching her chin between his fingers, scattering forms, reports, and money everywhere. His claws dug deep into her skin through his gloves and his eyes burned with a dangerous flame.

"Don't you forget your place, Samara. You might be my favorite, but you're still mine to do with as I please. I could have you sent to the Angels now if I wanted to, with just one little phone call Upstairs. Now get out of my office and go play nice with _my_ jester!" He released her and watched her bolt out of the room, satisfied. Samara wouldn't fuck this up. He had complete faith in her obedience.


	3. Not What I Expected

" _ **Ffucking h-hell-l-l!!!**_ "

Robo Fizz jumped in his exoskeleton when the chubby demon mechanic's soldering gun hit a particularly sensitive spot under his arm. Sparks rained down, bouncing harmlessly off of his thigh and the table like a flammable mini waterfall. He'd only booted back up about an hour ago. The last thing he remembered was one of his old rival Blitzo's cronies riding up on that stupid fat dragon and the damned beast gobbling him up like an hors d'oeuvres. Its breath had stunk to high heaven! He'd shut off while he was in the stupid animal. He'd been too damaged from the fire and its saliva had gotten into his circuits, frying him before he could spin out of it. When he came to, all he could think about was revenge. That stupid failed clown and his little lackeys had ruined his entire show! The park had been up in flames the last time he'd seen it; Satan only knew what it looked like now. Mammon was going to be pissed! He was still lost in his own thoughts when the door swung open and a demon lady of all things walked in.

"Excuse me? I'm Samara, Mammon's assistant. He sent me here to oversee this robot's repairs." Samara said, walking up to the mechanic and sticking out her hand, which the demon shook. She grimaced at the layer of grease and grime the contact left on her and subtly tried to wipe it off on a nearby towel.

She was tall and slender, though not as much as he was, with light bubblegum pink skin and long hair the color of snow, accented by two small curling demon horns, with two more that were more like small bumps on the either side of her forehead right above the outsides of her eyebrows. She still had plenty of curves for that willowy figure, and her eyes were unique to him. Black sclera with large white irises and no pupils. There was a tiny beauty mark high on her left cheek and her makeup made those big baby doll eyes pop even more. Two thin 'jester lines' trailed down her cheeks from those eyes in the same black liner, one of the only hints of who she worked for. She was overall a hot-ass piece. Made sense that she was Mammon's assistant. She probably _'assisted_ ' him plenty. Robo Fizz chuckled lecherously to himself. The mechanic and this 'Samara' ignored him, with the former starting to explain more about his latest project foisted on him by the Greed demon.

"Oh yeah? Well, he's alive at least, as alive as a robot can be anyway. I turned him back on about an hour ago. Makes it easier when he can move for me, and tell me where he feels damage, even though this one bitches a lot. His voice box is going to have to stay broken indefinitely, although I can make it a little better tomorrow. It'd take a long time to order a brand new one. It's a specialty piece. Otherwise, he should be ready to go in a couple of weeks. I've had him all morning and I've got other appointments to get to. He's not the only one of Mammon's little animatronics to be dropped off. He's in the worst shape though. The others just have fire damage." The mechanic scooted back on his stool, wiping spot and oil from his hands onto a cloth, the same one Samara had used. "You can take him now. He's a yappy fella too. I'll show you where his off switch is if you wanna shut him up for a while and get some peace. Lucifer fucking knows I would have if I didn't need his responses to speed up the process."

" _A-a-aaawwww_! I t-t-thought you were really-really warming up to meee. You w-wound me, sir!" The Jester Bot threw up an arm and leaned back dramatically, feigning sorrow. A muffled giggle made him peek over at Samara, who had her hands clamped over her mouth and was desperately trying to hide a smile. "H-hey glad I could entertain, toots. It's k-kkkinda my jjjob-b." He smiled toothily at her, wiggling his brows...well, he did the best he could with his face mostly missing.

Samara took in this snarky bot that still was stripped to his bare parts, which really seemed more like a naked metal body than a skeleton, and decided that maybe it wouldn't be all bad. He was funny! It couldn't be worse than spending the night at Mammon's clients' houses, whoring herself out for his profit. "Well, hopefully we'll have you back at that job in no time." She knocked his shoulder playfully with her fist, doing her best to be friendly. "You ready to go?"

He hopped off the workbench, wincing as his knees sparked for a second. "Oh, geeze..!" Recovery was not going to be instantaneous, that was for sure. If he ever saw Blitzo again he was going to pay that little red wannabe back tenfold for this bullshit! "Ssounds good, hot stuff." When he straightened, he towered over her by a good few inches. She wasn't the shortest woman in the world so it took her off guard for a moment and she stepped back.

"It's pronounced _Samara_." She huffed and tossed a dark hooded cloak at him, which he caught with one claw and stared at with a grossed-out expression.

"The heck is this **_ffuuugly_** thing?!"

"Oh just put it on. Mammon strictly demanded that nobody know where you are, so it's either the cloak or I've got to stuff you in a briefcase. Your choice!"

Robo Fizz's head cocked so severely to the side he was almost looking at her upside down, that manic almost predatory grin back on his face while his neck joints sparked dangerously. " _ **OoooOOOOH** fiesty_!! I l-like it. Where-e-e are we going?" He grudgingly pulled the cloak over his battered and still bare metal body, adding in a grumble "I feel like I should be in a c-cult or s-something. Couldn't bring me anything more flashy, huh? A little **piz-z-azz**? I'm a j-es-ester not a freaking monk."

Samara rolled her eyes at him, but she wasn't really irritated. "You're staying with me, big guy. Boss's orders. He says it's the last place anyone would think to look and I hate to admit it but he's right. This factory is the first place they'd try. I don't have a guest bedroom though, so you'll be crashing on the couch...do...do you even _need_ to sleep?"

He shrugged. The mechanic answered for him before he could speak. "He does actually. At least you _could_ call it sleep. It's when his systems update and send any reports back to the factory. It's a kind of stasis, but he doesn't sleep like a real person, like either of us or his original."

Samara could have sworn she saw a look of hurt pass over those robotic features, but it couldn't have been. But, then he muttered almost too soft to be heard "Well, s-sometimes I dream-m-m..." The humanity in her struggled to the surface. She wanted to reach out to him, touch his arm or something comforting, but living in Hell and her dealings with Mammon and the other demons high and low had given her major trust issues. She wasn't sure she wanted to let this total stranger see a weak spot. It was bad enough he'd have access to her in her home, while she slept, where she had previously managed to keep everyone else out. Truth be told, while every one of her jobs alive and dead had required her to deal with thousands of people and be constantly on a stage or in the public eye, she was an introvert at heart. This was going to be a whole new challenge. She shook her worries from her mind and chanced tugging his sleeve gently.

"Hey, let's get going. The car's waiting for us, and I think we've kept this man from his other projects long enough." She turned and waved to the mechanic, steering Robo Fizz out of the room after yanking his hood up. "I'll drop him off when you open in the morning on my way to work. Thank you, and I'll put in a good word with Mammon. I'm sure he didn't expect him to be back online this quickly."

The mechanical jester swiveled his head around nearly 180 degrees to leer at the male demon, his yellow eyes gleaming through the shadows cast by his hood with sinister delight. "See ya tomorrow, _Doc_! Can't wait!"

"Yeah yeah." The mechanic turned his back on them and started fiddling with various other metal parts on his bench. The sound of power tools accompanied the odd couple out onto into the hall.

Once they dumped themselves into the car, they sat in silence for a few minutes, sizing each other up. Thanks to the tinted windows he was able to take the hood back down. Their driver was someone who Mammon either trusted or who wouldn't be stupid enough to cross him, so no worries there. The awkward silence between Samara and the mangled bot grew and ballooned until it was popped by Samara, who blurted out

" ** _Sodoyoueatfood_**?"

  
She immediately flushed, clearing her throat. "Sorry about that. Umm, do you need to eat? Like a biological person?" He looked her over with those eery big yellow eyes, assessing her silently. It was so weird, she thought. For someone who had such exaggerated expressions usually (she had seen videos of him before, on commercials for Loo Loo Land.) with all of his 'flesh' and paint stripped away it was impossible now to read him. What was he thinking? Did he think she was stupid now? Was that an insensitive question to ask a robot? Mammon had said he was a mix of bio and mechanical parts and he never specified which was what so surely it wasn't that outlandish to ask—

"You k-know you're pret-ty cute when you're ffflustered. You turn even _mmore_ p-pink!" He tapped her nose with one metallic digit, causing her to squeak and jump in her seat. "I c-can eat food. It's mainly for show ttthough. AaaAnd _pleasure_." His eyes narrowed and smirk spread with the last line.

Samara swatted his hand away and told the driver to take them by McDemon's. "Drive-thru will be easier. I don't want to deal with people any more than I have to today. I need some good old fashioned junk food. And I need time to work out a better disguise for you." When they got to the speaker she ordered a large burger combo and an Oreo ice cream, then asked him what he wanted.

The bot just shrugged "Ju-j-just get me something ssweet, _sweetcheeks_." He winked at her then leaned back and propped his arms behind his head. He watched as she ordered him a couple of sweet treats, thinking to himself that he probably wouldn't mind rooming with this chick for a while. Once he was repaired he'd have a lot to do. His show was in shambles as well as the whole park, although he knew Mammon would never let that be for long. He couldn't make money from a pile of ashes. He supposed he should be grateful that he was so unique and hard to replace, otherwise he might have been left in the belly of that dragon to rust and perish while a shiny new Robo Fizz was shat off the manufacturing line. He wasn't sure where his soul would go if he were to shut down permanently. Come to think of it, did he even have a soul? He'd often pondered this, after the dazzling lights on the stage switched off at night and the darkness creeped in around his tent and into his mind... He was so caught up in his troubling thoughts that he didn't notice until Samara pushed an ice cream into his hands. A pleasant tingle lingered where her fingers had brushed his.

"Here you go. Hope ya like chocolate. Now, we can head back to my apartment. I bet we can find a way to disguise you enough so you don't have to be cooped up in the apartment all the time. I'll still have to be with you always, but it's better than being stuck inside right?" She smiled cautiously at him, which he returned, razor sharp teeth bared in a way that was both charming and unsettling. Samara wondered briefly if she would have trouble sleeping with someone this spooky just a room away on the couch. With all that sparking he could even prove to be a fire hazard. He seemed oddly bearable so far though, and the upholstery was fine in the car, so she shelved that worry to the back room of her already packed mind. "Hey" she continued, not waiting for his answer. "What should I even be calling you anyway? I want to call you Fizzarolli but you're not exactly the same. Do you prefer anything? Like a nickname?"

He chuckled. _That's_ what she was worried about right now?! She showed more consideration towards him than he was used to. It made him both happy and uncomfortable. "You can c-calll me Robo Fizz, Fizz, anything rreally. It doesn't bot-ther me toots."

She stuck her forked tongue out at him. "I _told_ you it's _Samara_!"

They pulled up to a fairly nice apartment building in a richer area of the city. Seemed like Mammon kept his favorite pet in a gilded cage. Samara's was the penthouse, and came with a rooftop patio complete with a pool, hot tub, and a little garden that she'd stuffed with her favorite plants, a few of the more carnivorous ones eyeing Fizz hungrily and turning their head-bulbs to follow him while Samara was giving him the grand tour. Her design aesthetic was cozy, lived in, and a little chaotic. She picked up anything and everything that made her happy, and displayed as much as possible. It helped offset the depression that constantly lurked at the edges of her psyche. There were also a lot of books. Piles even, spilling out from the shelves that couldn't hold any more. Turns out she had made the acquaintance of Prince Stolas on more than one occasion. "He's an oddly sweet guy actually, and even taller than you! My two big man-eating plants, Chompy & Mr. Bitey came from cuttings he gave me, and I'm borrowing a bunch of these books he suggested and loaned me. Next party that Mammon drags me to I'll give them back" she explained, leading him to the living room, where she set the food bags on the coffee table, which was made with a glass top and carved horns. They talked a bit more that night while they ate, and later Samara brought blankets and a fluffy pillow for her guest to the couch after cleaning up the aftermath of their dinner. "You sure you'll be okay out here?" She asked him, and he shrugged.

"Lady, I used to sleep in a battered o-old tent. As far as I'm concerned, this is-is the Four Fucking Seasonsss." He giggled and hopped into the covers staring impishly up at her. "And the staff is _hot_. So, 5 st-star review so far."

Samara rolled her eyes but she laughed a little. "You know you're not what I thought you'd be, Fizz. Most people drain my social battery almost immediately and I end up wanting to either hide in a hole or deck them but you seem okay so far. I haven't wanted to rip my hair out at least, or find that off switch... You have a good night, okay? I bet you'll be back up and running within the week and then we can focus on getting your show together again. We can brainstorm if you want."

He looked like he'd be raising an eyebrow at her if he'd had one. "Ummm, _we_?!"

With a swift smack to her own forehead and a frown, Samara apologized to him. "Holy shit I'm so sorry. I'm frazzled as fuck these days. I totally forgot to tell you old daddy Greed's other demand from me. I'm supposed to help you rebuild. Bigger and better, he said, and we're not to spare any expense if it's needed. He wants to finally outshine Lu Lu World, and _you_ are his star. I've been ordered to do whatever it takes."

"W-whatever it takes huh? Why the hell-ll would he hire you for that? This is a _circus_ , doll, and you seem more like a secretary than a performer." He propped himself up on an elbow and rolled his head over in a comical, mocking manner.

Samara scoffed and jabbed her finger in his face. "Hey buddy I'm not some buttoned up prude. I've got to be professional if I'm going to represent my boss but before I died I was, I...." she stopped short and turned away angrily. He didn't see the tears that stung her eyes as memories of music and lights, of cheering crowds and the sense of magic that came from spinning around in the air worked their way back into her mind. "...nevermind." She started to leave for her room.

"Hey, woah. Did I hit a nerve? _C'mon_ , I'm sorry-sorry..." Fizz actually felt a little guilty, though he couldn't fathom why she'd reacted like that. Something painful was clearly eating at her, dark memories of the past most likely. He knew the feeling all too well. Damnit now he wanted to comfort a girl he'd just met, and he had no idea how. "Ummm you wanna hear a joke-e?" When a sniffle and her hugging her arms more tightly around herself and curling her tail around her own waist was the only response he got, he hopped back out of bed and did his best in his damaged state to twist and spin around her with his extendable limbs, coming to a stop in front of her and grabbing up a random vase to use as a mock microphone. "So, a man is at home when he hears a knock at the door. He op-opens the door and sees a s-s-snail on the porch. He picks up the snail and throws that-t-t fucker as far as he can! A few years later there's a knock on the door. He opens it and sees the same snail. The snail says: 'Hey-hey buddy. What the hell was that all about?"

He did a little jig after the punchline then waited for a response. At first there was nothing, then to his horror Samara's shoulders started to shake. 'Oh now you've done it you **jackass**!' He yelled at himself internally. 'You just made this chick cry!' He was about to apologize yet again when Samara threw her head back and howled with laughter, tears spilling down her rosy cheeks.

" _ **Bahahaha**_! Goddamnit!" She wiped at her eyes. Encouraged, Robo Fizz twirled and danced around again, doing circles around her happily, and wrapping himself around her still laughing form with his tentacle-like legs, still swinging around his microphone vase.

"He-ey Sammy. Ya wanna know how to make holy water?" He held the vase out towards her and waited on an answer, his eyes shining bright in the darkness that had fallen since the sun had gone down a couple of hours ago. They cast a warm glow on everything around them, and helped him see the dazzling smile now on her face.

"Sure Fizz. Tell me how."

He stuck out his arms and yelled "Why you boil the _**Hell**_ out of it!" He released her and once he was in front of her, set down the vase and dropped into a split with his arms stuck up as if to say 'tada!' Samara lost it, doubling over and gasping for air. Something about the randomness of his jokes and his sincere attempt to cheer her up had broken through the melancholy that had been plaguing her a few moments ago. When she finally regained her composure, she surprised them both by pulling him into a hug.

"Thank you..." she murmured into his metallic chest. Fizz nearly shorted out. He hadn't expected a reaction like that, he only wanted her to cheer up. But, it didn't feel unwelcome like the contact foisted upon him by snot-dripping Hellborn children or the invasive touches of some of his other, more mature 'clients'. He shuddered at the thought. Sex was fun, _no shit_. But, something about being peddled around as a sex bot just took the fun right out of it most of the time. Sure there had been a time or two he'd truly enjoyed himself, but most of it was bore through with gritted teeth. Tentatively, he wound his arms around this pink demon that was almost a stranger, but as soon as he did, she jumped back like she'd been shocked.

" _Oh_! Um, sorry. I just...it's late. Thanks again for cheering me up. G-goodnight!" Samara waved awkwardly and fled to her room, leaving a very confused and slightly lonely robot to his couch bed.

Samara closed her door and slid down it into a fetal position. What was _that_?! She had hardly willingly hugged someone like that since she was alive... and here she was throwing herself onto a guy she'd just met today because of a couple of dumb, and admittedly funny, jokes? What was _wrong_ with her? She cried for a while, feeling raw and vulnerable suddenly. When she picked herself back up finally, she silently undressed and sat on the bed. Pulling a brush out of her nightstand, she undid her hair & brushed it out, the simple repetition calming her mind. So she was lonely, and she'd hugged someone who made her smile. That was hardly something to freak out over right? She would just have to be more careful around him. It wouldn't do her any good to become open to someone and get taken advantage of again. This was Hell, and it was every man, woman, imp, & demon out for themselves. She put the brush back away, used a couple of wipes to remove the day's makeup from her face and then got into bed. She tossed and turned until she at last fell into a fitful sleep full of disturbing dreams and memories.


	4. Lights Out

Samara jerked awake out of a nightmare, and promptly smacked her forehead into something hard and metal. "Ow what the hell did I— _AHHH_! FIZZ WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Perched on her bed and _on top of her_ like a comfy housecat was Robo Fizz, peering down at her with the most serious expression she'd seen on him so far. She didn't think twice before grabbing up her heftiest pillow and swinging it with all her might, knocking him off onto the floor.

" _Hey_!! What the h-hell was that for, _Sammy_?!" He popped back up and rubbed his cheek, glaring daggers at his host.

An indignant squeak came from Samara, who had darkened to the shade of a lovely beet. "What you you mean? You're in _my_ room on top of me in _my_ bed! What are you doing you-you **pervert**?!" She gathered up the covers around her, heart hammering in her chest and feeling hot and flustered and breathing hard. It was just the embarrassment, she told herself.

Robo Fizz shrugged. "I mean, you're not _wroooong_!" He giggled maniacally, then just as fast that eerie serious face was back. "Well you were yelling in your sleep, sooo-o I came to see what was wrong. I just wa-wasn't sure if I should wake you or not."

Her pointed ears drooped and she tugged her tail between her hands guiltily. "Oh...oh wow I'm sorry you heard that. Was I, um, saying anything in particular?"

He shook his head. "Nope not really, just s-something about n-not being able to breathe. Part of me thought you'd just auto-erotically asphyxiated y-yourself I mean I've had clients who— anyway. You didn't sound like you were having f-fun."

Instinctively, Samara's hands flew to her throat to clutch and feel around before she could stop herself. It was fine, there was no rope, no woman's evil laughter, no problem. She was safe in her bed. In Hell and with a crazy robotic clown in her room, but still _fairly_ safe comparatively. "I...yeah, maybe. I don't know....I haven't had that particular dream in a long time."

He gazed at her almost sympathetically. "I know what you mean. I've started-d dreaming about the pa-ark burning, and about being sw-allowed alive by that stupid pet. I'm fine, it's just..." he flicked his gaze down, picking at a piece of loose fuzz in her rug with his fingers "...disturbing." After a few moments of her watching him quietly, her eyes full of unasked questions, he got up and stretched, sparking a little and glitching out slightly when he did so. It lit up the room like miniature flashes of lightning, and Samara was again glad that somehow he hadn't set anything on fire. "Wwwwell! I'm gonna go get a bit more shuteye. Yyouu should t-too..." he made to leave but was jerked to a stop by a small, soft hand slipping into his and holding him there. He looked back to see Samara staring at their hands with just as much surprise as he was. "Yeah babe?" He tried to keep it light by poking at her with another nickname. She didn't seem to take any notice, and he didn't pull his hand away first.

"Hey..." she murmured quietly, her tail twitching nervously. "Could you, um, stay here tonight? Now that I think of it, that couch is super lumpy and you're a guest here. So, if you can promise to _**behave yourself**_ , then you're free to have the other side of the bed."

Before she could regret that offer, Robo Fizz happily dove under the sheets with a triumphant _whoop_ , popping his head back out close to hers. "Knew you'd wa-ant me in your bed...that didn't take long. On the first date too!" He teased and she shoved him.

"Don't make me roll you off onto the floor, Sparky." She flipped back over to face away from him and did her best to get back to sleep. Thankfully, it wasn't long before she was slipping back under into unconsciousness. "Night, Fizz...today was kinda nice..." she whispered. Right before she tipped over the precipice into dreamland, she barely registered a robotic arm slithering around her waist and pulling her back against an unexpectedly warm body.

Robo Fizz stared down at the woman he was holding. She was sleeping peacefully now, her breathing coming slow and even in his grasp. He shifted and when his arm started to slide off of her, she subconsciously grabbed it and tucked it tighter around her again. His gut was squirming something fierce and he felt like he was overheating a little. He made a mental note to have that damn mechanic check out his coolant system for leaks, and figure out what exactly this latest malfunction was. Putting that aside, he too shut his eyes and prepared to enter stasis, whispering back with no glitch "Night Samara, I had fun too..." He drifted off and was quickly pulled back into the past...

_"Get back here you little red skank-k!" Fizz shouted, sprinting towards Blitzo with hatred in his burning eyes which had turned red with rage. "I'm about to wr-rap up the biggest joke of all time!" He easily dodged the rain of bullets from the tiny imp female in Blitzo's crew, cackling madly with his target so close at hand. " **Your life!** " He tucked into another deadly spin and raced towards Blitzo, who finally looked a little worried. Ha, he'd gotten to him! He got within a couple of feet of the former clown turned assassin/bodyguard and could practically taste victory, when he felt himself being lifted up by one of his limbs. 'Woah, _hey _ **waitaminute**!!' he thought frantically, feeling himself flipped up in the air, getting a nice dose of vertigo as he did so. He saw what had snatched him up as he spun around helplessly in the sky. Blitzo's other employee, the puny little white haired imp with the freckles, had somehow ridden the goddamn dragon from the park over. That thing had always looked at him like a tasty snack, and, as Fizz screamed and tumbled into its maw, all he could do was hope that he gave it wicked heartburn, stupid thing!_

_When Fizz opened his eyes again it was pitch black, hot, and slimy. Every time he struggled he just slipped deeper down the creature's throat. He was constricted on all sides. Dumbass, fat dragon! He tried to punch his way out, but it didn't seem to phase it. Climbing out wasn't an option either; he couldn't gain any traction even with his claws. The sounds of the park's destruction still came_ _through, just a bit muffled. This place was a total crap fest and a fucking scam and he knew it, but it was the only home he'd ever known. It was the only place he knew he belonged. Now, it was all going up in emerald flames, and he was a dragon's lunch while Blitzo got to waltz off with his little imp homies and his fancy Royal clients. Surely, he thought, someone would come for him eventually? He hadn't been exactly quiet when he was eaten, plenty of people must have seen, must've heard! He gulped, the first prickling of fear worming inside him.  
_

'Someone will cut me out of this overgrown, overfed gecko. They have to! I'm Loo Loo Land's Star attraction, I'm irreplaceable, I'm— _'_

_he finally slipped all the way down and hit the dragon's stomach with a wet **plop** , landing in digestive acids that immediately ate away the tattered remains of his costume and any covering he had left. Time was impossible to tell in this fleshy cell. The wave of rising panic crashed over him at last, knocking out his last reserves of hope. _'I'm going to **die**! Game over, lights out, total shutdown! No one's...coming for me... _' his eyes faded as his systems began their death throes. As he was slipping away, some of his last conversation with Blitzo played back at him tauntingly._

'People looOOOoove me. Does anybody loooOooove you, _**BLITZO?** ' He heard himself say again. He'd been so confident when he said that, but here at the end he allowed himself to fully process what he'd always known at the back of his mind. What he'd always refused to acknowledge. He was a fake, a fucking fraud, nothing more than the animatronic pale copy to the REAL Fizzarolli. That's who everyone loved, admired, and lusted after. That was why he was chained to his little dumpy stage in the park, allowed to rust and fall into disrepair, and during off-hours be passed around like an easy lay at_ _a frat party to anyone with enough money to ride Mammon's most expensive experience. At the end he'd be stuffed into a washing machine like some dude's jizz rag, only to repeat it all again night after night. Nobody really loved him, and as stupid as he felt right now, he really wished someone had, or that he'd never been built in the first place. His last thought before his last faculties left him was how he wouldn't have be anyone's whore or slave anymore, though he was going to miss his little stage. Maybe one day people would have cheered for him and not just what he was modeled after..._

_**'Does anybody looooove you?'**_

_**'...No...’** _


	5. Taking a Break to Break You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weewoo!! Gigantic smut warning!! ⚠️

Fast forward two weeks:

Fizz woke up groggy and irritated. That nightmare was really starting to wear him out. He flopped on his back, turning his head to stare at the little demon curled up next to him. Seemed like his tossing and turning hadn't woken her, that was good. It was one thing to cheer up someone else when they were feeling down. His entire existence was based around entertainment, but he'd be damned if he let her see him like this, shaking and a mess. If he'd had the proper biology he was certain he'd have broken out in a cold sweat, either way the feeling was still there. His internal clock told him it was just about dawn. He sure as Hell wasn't going back to sleep after that, so after a while of laying and thinking, tapping the fingers of his free hand (Samara had taken to rolling towards him in the night and had trapped his other arm under her) against the crimson covers, he sighed heavily. Samara had been really great to him so far, and he knew she wasn't thrilled about sharing her space indefinitely, even with them getting along. He knew a thing or two about needing space away from everyone now and then. Carefully, he slipped away from her, pulling the covers back over her shoulders and leaving the room.

_Sniff sniff_... Samara's eyes shot open wide and she tumbled out of bed, tangling in the sheets and hitting the ground hard and face first, her oversized nightshirt riding up and revealing the cotton candy print shorts she'd put underneath. Pushing herself up with a pained groan, she struggled in a panic with her silken prison. The acrid stench of smoke had been what had dragged her none too gently back to the waking world.

"Something's burning! SHIT!" Her mind raced. Fizz's shorting must have finally caused a fire after all! She had just freed one foot and was tugging at the other when the door swung open, and in walked Robo Fizz, carrying a tray and looking thoroughly amused at the scene he'd just walked in on.

"Morning, Sunshine! D-doing some early yoga?" He teased, chuckling at her reddening cheeks.

"Haha, very funny Fizz. But, don't you smell that? Something is **burning**. One of your sparks must have done it, _hurry_! Get me up we've got to put it out before it spreads through the apartment!" She managed to free her other leg and bolted for the door, only to be stopped by one of Fizz's arms snaking around her waist and dragging her back, her claws digging into the floor the whole way.

"Ah-ah- _ahhh_! Hold your horses the-e-ere, babes! That wasn't me-e. Well, okay I guess k-iiinda it's my fault. Had a _bit_ of a mishap-p in the kitchen. Took a few tries but _**tadaaaaa-aaa-aa!**_ " He spun her around and presented the tray he'd still been holding to her.

"Fizz, I—wow!" It was loaded with a full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, orange juice, even French toast, which she hadn't had since she was a child... She hadn't had much time for cooking once she'd joined the circus. It all looked delicious, even with the toast a bit charred at the edges.

"T-the toast took a few-few tries." He set it down at the foot of the bed. Samara plopped back onto it and dove into the meal, munching noisily. "I didn't burn the kitchen do-w-wn though, so I'd call it a success! You, uh, may need a n-new pan though. Sorry about that."

Speaking through a mouthful of egg, Samara waved away his concerns. "It's totally fine, really. I've had my eye on a nice new one anyway. I've been meaning to cook more. Never had the chance when I was alive." She swallowed. "But, Mammon keeps me almost as busy as my old job! Why'd you do all this anyway? Have I even thanked you? Oh shit I didn't, _THANK YOU_ Fizz."

He shrugged, his damaged joints protesting somewhat noisily. On the inside he did a little happy dance at her praise. She had, in this short span of time, become his best friend. "I wanted to do something _n-nice_. You had a rough day yesterday-ay and you've been a great host...ess? I was al-already up." He grimaced at the memory of what had really been his alarm clock. If he ever saw that dragon again he'd make it into a rotisserie lizard and serve _that_ to Samara!

She beamed up at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. No one had been this nice to her since she'd landed herself in Hell. No one had for even longer than that, actually... Maybe there were still a few good people down here. She really was starting to grow fond of the robotic entertainer. _'Maybe_.' She emphasized for herself. It still wasn't a good idea to get too chummy. It was just breakfast, right? "So, do you need anything to eat?"

He shook his head. "Nah, raided your pantry already. By the way, you're out of cookies." He smiled impishly.

She rolled her eyes. "Greeeat. Well, I'll get some on my way to pick you back up after work. You _really_ have a sweet tooth, Fizz."

One yellow eye winked at her. "Why-y do you think I like you?" He added in a drawn out cat-call growl, making a funny little kitty paw motion with one of his hands, those razor-sharp points of his metallic fingers catching in the early morning light.

Her current bite of food went straight down the wrong pipe when he pulled a laugh out of her, and she doubled over, coughing, with tears of pain springing to her eyes. "Goddamnit, Fizz. You robo lecher!" She taunted once she'd regained her composure. He just beamed gleefully at her, not bothering to protest her accusation.

Later, once she was done, they piled into another car sent by Mammon at the usual time (Samara planned on talking to him about that vehicle of her own today, since one of his many other financial ventures had recently yielded a considerable windfall.) and, fully disguised now in a Loo Loo Land hoody and black jeans, Fizzarolli was once more dropped off at the factory.

"I'll pick you up after work, okay? See you this afternoon, play nice with your 'doctor' okay? He threatened to dismantle you last time and give you back in a box, so go easy on the poor man! Byeeee!" Samara stuck her torso out of the window and waved to him as she was driven away. Robo Fizz waved back, grinning, then made sure his disguise was in place before heading in for another round of repairs. Some parts for him should have been shipped in overnight, so with any luck he wouldn't be sparking anymore by the time little Sammy came back for him. Not to mention if all went well he'd get his face back too. Then it would be just one more tune-up and waiting on his new voice box, which should be finished in a few days. He was almost back to himself. Humming a cheerful tune, which glitched out at random intervals, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and meandered into the factory. He had a mechanic to pester.

Back at the Greed HQ, Imps were scampering back and forth through the halls when Samara got to work. When she stepped inside Mammon's office, he was on the phone screaming at some unfortunate soul on the other end, his demonic powers flaring up with his rage and making him even more terrifying.

"I don't care what you have to do or whose dick you have to _suck_! You get me a better deal on that merchandise! I'm not paying a penny more than I did last time, inflation be damned! They should be grateful I'm even placing an order this large. Fix it or God himself wouldn't be able to fix _you_ when I'm done with you!" He slammed the phone down and groaned, slipping back into his seat and rubbing his face, miraculously not messing up his face paint. His powers faded and left him looking normal again.

"Samara, good to see you! Sit, sit." He waved his hand at her, not opening his eyes or looking her way. When she was seated he finally peered over at her. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes? I swear you are the best deal I ever made. Tell me, how is my robot? Is he showtime ready yet?"

A twinge of annoyance made Samara's eye twitch and before she could stop herself, she snapped back " _Fizz_ is doing just fine. He's been doing better every day and today they should be able to stop that constant sparking." Her tail whipped back and forth like an agitated cat's and her long ears flattened against her skull.

A jingle of bells accompanied the dramatic tilt of Mammon's head as he turned to fully regard her. "OooOOOOoh what is _this_ , Samara? I've never seen you take that tone with me before. You've never had the balls. You've really taken to him haven't you? What, did you take his more _erotic_ features for a spin and get addicted?"

Jumping up in her seat and almost knocking it back, Samara squeaked WHAT?! NO, what features? _Erotic_? Mammon!!"

The imps in the halls outside flinched and nearly dropped their work when they heard the howl of laughter that broke out of the Greed demon. Scurrying to get back to their duties, they were silently thankful that it wasn't more screaming. Samara always helped cheer up their boss. They were rather fond of her for a human soul for that reason, even if she wasn't supposed to be outside of Pride ring. Mammon tried to stifle himself, but when he peeked at his assistant through tears of mirth, her horrified expression caused another fit to come upon him. Once he finally got ahold of himself he clicked his tongue. "Oh, dear aren't you just _precious_?" He smiled and showed his row of deadly fangs, like a shark's mouth. "How can you still be so easily flustered after everything I've had you do? It's _charming_ , really. And" he strolled over to her and tilted her head up to look at him, sliding one long silken-covered finger under her dainty chin. "It just makes me want to make you blush even more..." he purred, dipping down to brush his lips across hers.

Samara scooted away from the touch. "S-sir!" He gripped a fistful of her snowy hair and crushed his mouth to hers, snaking his tongue into her mouth to slide against her own. Yanking her up by her hair, he half-dragged her over to his desk, where he carelessly pushed everything off onto the floor before hoisting her up onto it. " _Sir_!!" Samara insisted louder, pushing back against him. "The paperwork!"

He yanked her legs around his waist, growling into her ear " _Fuck_ the damn paperwork, Samara. You can pick it up later. Right now I need a break." He kissed her again, slipping the midnight, moon & stars patterned dress she'd donned today off her trembling shoulders. His lips trailed down her jaw to her throat, biting teasingly.

Her head was swimming, and Samara murmured half-heartedly, already knowing that any resistance was futile when her boss got like this "Mammon, someone will _see_! We're in your office, anyone could walk in!"

His hands slid up her thighs, raising goosebumps with them. They sought her underwear, yanking them roughly down even as he freed himself from his pants and sunk into her with a throaty moan, pleased to find that she'd already been wet and ready to receive him. "This is _**Hell**_ , dear. No one gives a shit and even if they did what are they going to do about it? I own this place and I own _you_!" He was frantic and rough, and as much as it made her confused and guilty, Samara couldn't help but gain a sick pleasure from his ministrations. She covered her own mouth to stifle the noises that he was pulling out of her, her other hand gripping desperately onto his back, crinkling the colorful fabric and feeling the muscles contract and writhe as he slammed into her. His nails raked the polished wooden surface beneath them where he had his hands planted on either side of her, leaving long lacerations in their wake as the desk creaked in protest at their actions. Suddenly he pulled away from her, grabbing her by the shoulders and hauling her up before bending her over the desk, which now had a wet spot from her juices leaking onto it that Mammon shoved her cheek into, re-entering her and grinding himself against her until she thought her hips would break.

" _Fuck_ that feels _good_!” He hissed, snaking his hands up her torso underneath her bra, taking her breasts in a bruising grip as his pace quickened. Samara's eyes rolled back into her head and her breath came in short gasps and pants. She tried to cover her mouth again but Mammon removed her hand with one of his own, leaving no muffle for the moans she couldn't hold back anymore. The office door pushed open and Samara found herself making eye contact with a now-traumatized imp intern, whose jaw nearly hit the binder of receipts he'd been carrying. Mammon snickered at their obvious discomfort, saying jovially "Oh, thank you for getting those for me. Now would you kindly get the fuck out? I'm _busy_. Oh, and hold my calls!" His cackling laughter chased the imp down the hall, who decided it was time to take an early lunch.

Samara's entire face was burning, and she felt like her hair might melt off of her scalp "Boss, _please_! That was so embarrassing!" She wailed, struggling to break free of his grip.

He shoved her face back down, pinning her cheek cruelly against the wood until it was sure to leave a bruise. His voice grew more demonic and he snarled " _ **Who said I was done with you?**_ " He resumed his rhythm, picking up pace and grabbing a handful of her ass. Samara wasn't sure how much more she could take. She was sure that imp would warn the others, but what if someone else came in and saw her like this? A drooling, sweaty mess under their demon boss? She didn't have to worry for long, however. With a shuddering hiss of satisfaction, he emptied himself deep inside of her. When he recovered, he let her off the desk and allowed her to put herself together while he plopped back in his chair and kicked his feet up, looking utterly sated.

"Whoo! I really needed that. Thanks as usual Samara. Looks like I'll need a new desk after all though" he leered at her with a devilish fire in his eyes and those sharp teeth once again on display with his lips spread in a devilish parody of a smile. "it died such a _fun_ death though. RIP, old reliable! Now, clean up this mess and we'll get the rest of the paperwork done and on the way to be filed. Then you can head home at the usual time, and pick up Robo Fizz. I want you to call me with a progress report once you talk to Rench though."

Samara straightened her dress and retrieved her panties from the floor, trying to ignore the dripping down her thighs. "Ohhh, so _that's_ his name. Fizz and I have just been calling him 'the mechanic' this whole time. That or his doctor."

"Awww isn't that cute. I'm so happy to see two of my possessions getting along so well. You've finally made a friend, little Sammy."

"Yeah" Samara mused, ignoring him calling her a 'possession' she was so used to those little jabs by now. "I guess you could say so..."


	6. Honey I’m Home...

"Well **_hellooOoo_** handsome!" Robo Fizz admired himself in the dirty mirror the mechanic had dragged in for him to see some of the final touches. He finally had his face back! A fresh coat of paint never felt so good. Not to mention the jester tails on his head had been replaced, so every movement jingled again. He poked his own cheek, pleased when it he surface gave under the pressure ever so slightly. He then pinched and stretched it and toyed with his features for a while, making all sorts of goofy faces. It was nice to be able to have a more readable expression again. He was able to stretch and contort his limbs properly again too, and without the errant spark going off.

The reason his 'skin' was malleable at all was because of the mixture of technologies used to create him. Technology undoubtedly stolen by Mammon from Hell knew where. Nothing about him was _truly_ biological. He fit squarely in the middle. It was more a softer, lifelike metal. That had melted away during the Loo Loo Land fires and had left only his tougher, hard skeleton. Thanks to his _'other_ job', he was able to switch off his pain receptors when it suited him, unless he was...ordered to do otherwise. That was rare, thankfully, but never pleasant when it happened. It had really come in handy that last day at the park though. That was also why he wasn't just normal metal. At first he was, but 'customers' had complained about having to fuck just cold steel. And about him banging up their washing machines. Whoops. Fizz didn't much care what they wanted, but he did like his face this way so he wasn't going to bitch.

_'I wonder what Samara will think of this?'_

He found himself wondering. A weird sensation crept up on him, and it took him a few minutes of just blankly staring at his own reflection, tongue still lolled out goofily, to pin it down. ' _I'm feeling..._ **shy?!** _What the fuck is that about?_ ' He huffed and turned away, thanking the mechanic and pulling his disguise back on. It fit much better now that it wasn't just draped loosely over an endoskeleton. His classic outfit was packed away in a box for him that had been sent to the factory, and set aside for him here to take with him.

Samara was very late, trudging through the door almost an hour after their usual time. She brightened up when she saw him though, rushing over and pushing his hood back.

" _Aww Fizz_! You look more like yourself again!" She clapped her hands, bouncing happily on her heels. He took an extravagant bow, taking her hand up in his and kissing it, to which she blushed. His internals were doing flip-flops and felt like they were twisting up again. He'd forgotten to mention that to the guy. For now he ignored it, plastering on his usual bravado.

"Yep, you get to see me in my full glory now, Sammy. Well, _almost_ , babe. I'm still wearing your spare clothes for now."

"Your voice isn't even skipping anymore!"

She giggled. Both of them turned when the mechanic got Samara's attention, giving her a report and receipts to pass along to Mammon. "He's pretty much fully functional. Even got his new voice box in. It still has the off switch installed. Give me a call if you ever need to use it. Seriously. That is **_one_** chattery robot." He shot Fizz a pointed glare, to which the jester stuck his tongue out at him and flipped him the bird.

"I know you love the sound of my voice, doc. No need to be so _coy_." Fizz winked at him.

The mechanic just rolled his eyes and continued after shoving the jester's box of clothes at him. "Let Mammon know his _'adult features_ ' are fully online now as well, so if he wants to start renting him out again, he can. I just want you to bring him back next week so I can fine tune him, work out any kinks that you find. Okay?"

Samara nodded and thanked him. There were those insinuations again. First Mammon and now Rench...just what other kind of entertaining did they have Robo Fizz doing? She feared she already knew the answer. She was deep in thought when she left with Fizz, blinking against the daylight's assault on her eyes after being in the dark factory so long. They piled once again into the car, for what would hopefully be one of the last times. Mammon had ended up in a good mood, so she'd breached the topic of her own transportation to him and he'd agreed, on the grounds that she promise not to be late. She sighed and leaned back in the seat, only to find Fizz staring down at her, very close to her face when she opened her eyes again.

" _ **Ahhh**_ FIZZ! I thought I said to stop popping up in my face like that, you're gonna give me a heart attack, I swear...uhhhh, _Fizz_?"

His face was utterly terrifying. A mask of barely contained rage. She'd never seen him look so angry before, and his almost manic glare was fixated on her cheek, the one Mammon had bruised on the desk.

"Samara, _what_ happened to you today? _Who. Did. That?_ " He asked quietly, the playful tone gone and replaced with a soft but menacing tone. She slapped a hand to her cheek to cover it, wincing.

"I'm okay, it's nothing!"

He pulled her hand away gently, taking both of them into his own. His grip was firm but shaking. He growled low in his throat "That's not what I asked. What happened Samara? What exactly is _'nothing_ '? Bruises don't just sprout out of _nowhere_ you know."

Shame and fear shut Samara down from any attempts at kindness towards herself. The trauma was just too much, and why risk her friend calling her what everyone else did behind her back, and sometimes to her face?

_**Mammon's whore...**_

"I said it's nothing, leave it _alone_ Fizz!" She scooted to the furthest corner of the seat, wrapping her arms around her knees and hiding her face in them, sniffling back tears.

"Samara, I'm just trying to help. I'm pretty sure I know exactly how you feel, or at least something similar."

Samara regretted the words that flew out of her before they even fully left her lips, but they came out anyway, the verbal lashing of a cornered wounded creature. "Oh how could you know Fizz? _**You don't even have real feelings!**_ You're a robot!" She shrieked. Her head shot up at the sound of the car door opening. "Oh goddamnit, _Fizz_ I didn't—"

He was already gone, leaving behind the box with his clothes. There weren't that many people around, and it was broad daylight, but it was like he'd disappeared without a trace. Panic gripped Samara. She'd never meant to say something so nasty, she just wanted to stop him from getting so close to the truth, her hideous secret that she didn't want him being so privy to. Too many people knew already and no one believed she hadn't gotten herself in that situation on purpose in order to curry favor with the Greed Demon. How could she stand having Fizz look at her the same as everyone else? Everyone except his original blueprint, who seemed somewhat sympathetic but still had no qualms about utilizing her _services_... She had to find Fizz! She had to apologize. Not only that but if he was found by the wrong people, her friend would be in grave danger and so would she! Mammon would **destroy** her utterly for this!

Cursing, she yanked the door Fizz had left open shut and snapped at the driver to start circling the nearby blocks. Samara pressed her face to the window and tried to pick out any trace of the robotic jester.

Already far away, Robo Fizz snuck through the crumbling gates of Loo Loo Land. He had nowhere else to go now, he definitely couldn't face Samara. The voices in his head combined with hers had sent him fleeing, as fast as he could. He ran blindly until he had found himself here of all places. He could still hear it even now, the echoes.

_'Not real.'_

_**'Cheap-ass robo-ripoff!"**_

_'I can't afford the real deal, but you'll do just fine tonight, sugar, hahahaha!'_

_'Not good enough'_

'But MOMMY, I wanted to see the REAL Fizzarolli!'

'YOU

DON'T

EVEN

HAVE

**_REAL_**

**_ FEELINGS!'_ **

He shuddered and made his way through the park, stepping over what debris was still there. The biggest infrastructures were definitely getting worked on at a clipped pace, and it was looking a lot better than the pictures he'd seen from the work Sa— _she_ had brought home with her, but most of it was still a dump. He wasn't surprised to find that what was left of his show tent was so far untouched. Shuffling through the charred seats and plopping himself onto the crumbling stage, he dropped his head into his hands and let out a shuddering sigh.

" _Well, honey I'm home..._ "


	7. Help Has Arrived?

The Sun was setting, but Samara's anxiety was only rising. She'd had the driver circle so many blocks, and covered miles. Eventually she'd had him park while she continued on foot to ask anyone who wouldn't cuss her out or ignore her if they'd seen anyone in a bright red Loo Loo Land hoodie. So far, no one had any leads and she was getting desperate. She was ready to tear her hair out and scream when her cellphone rang. Her heart dropped, but when heard a different ringtone then saw the caller ID and realized it wasn't Mammon calling she relaxed just a little. It was only a matter of time until he found out what was going on and then it was her head for sure that would roll. Maybe literally, considering he could torture her all he wanted and as long as he didn't use an angel's weapon she wouldn't stop existing. The prospect was unimaginably horrifying.

"H-hello?" She answered cautiously, not exactly looking forward to hearing the voice that she _did_ know she would on the other side considering the circumstances.

" _Heyyyy_ Samara, how's it going?" The original Fizzarolli's coy voice came purring through the speaker, sending a pang of pain through her. It wasn't his fault but did he and his double just have to have exactly identical voices?

"Umm hi Fizzarolli. I-it's going fine. _Why_ are you calling me?"

"Uh- _huuuuuh_. I guess we must have different definitions of 'fine' then, because when things are fine you don't usually run through the streets stopping strangers to ask them about what I can only assume is my missing robot."

She gasped, clamping her hand over her mouth as terror gripped her. How could he know this quickly? Had he told Mammon? What did he want from her? " _How did you find out?_ " She hissed, her tail flicking anxiously.

He chuckled. "That confused look on your face is **soooo** cute!"

Annoyed by the jester demon's games, Samara snapped, jabbing her finger at the reciever. "Hey, this is no time for games mister, where are you anyway?! How can you see me right now?"

He clicked his tongue at her. " _Awww_ come on Samara, it's _always_ time for games when you're someone like me. And as for where I am..." the call ended abruptly, and Samara was left dumbfounded, casting her eyes in every direction including up at the rooftops. She didn't have long to search before a hand clamped over her mouth and dragged her into the alley she'd been standing in front of, stifling her shrieks.

Two glowing eyes and a wide, shark-toothed grin leered down at her, and Samara struggled with all her might against her captor, who'd thoroughly pinned her against the grimy, graffiti-covered wall with his body. Her only free appendage, her tail, was beating uselessly into his side. Her muffled screaming came to a stop, however, when her eyes further adjusted to the growing darkness around them, and the sweet smell of cotton candy mixed with the clinging smokiness of cigarettes filled her senses. Of course it was _him_.

"Oh my _God_ , Fizzarolli! Don't scare me like that! You're as bad as Fizz!" She berated him after ripping his hand from her lips, wiping her mouth and glaring at him. He had loosened his grip when he saw her fright turn to recognition...and then irritation, which only amused him.

He snickered at her discomfort. " _Awwww_ that's _adorable_! You've given him a little nickname and everything!"

She simply glared at him, eyes glowing demonically as they only did when she was particularly pissed.

He held up his hands and waved them at her in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay babes. I get it, I'll cut the jokes... _for now_. Now, tell me what happened?" He planted his hands firmly yet gently on her shoulders and waited patiently for her to respond.

Her lower lip quivered, and her voice shook like a wind-battered leaf along with the rest of her small frame under his hands. "I... don't even know where to begin."

His eyes strayed to her damaged cheek, and he nodded towards it, expression unreadable. "You could start by telling my where you got that bruise."

Samara bit back a mean retort, reminding herself that pushing people away when they were only trying to help her was exactly what got her into this abysmal situation in the first place. She sighed heavily. "Mammon gave it to me, okay? Today was a _'rough_ ' day at work." He felt a shudder ripple through her. "I was even late picking up Fizz for the first time."

Fizzarolli appeared similar to how Fizz had when he'd noticed the mark now, and he slid a finger gently across it. His frown deepened and creased his face when she winced in pain and let out a small whimper, and the fire in his eyes brightened into an even more intimidating inferno.

_'What a dumbass thing to do to a pretty face like that... **If I had the power I would—'**_ he cursed their boss internally, cutting himself off when his thoughts began to traipse down a dangerous path, though not an unfamiliar one.

"Fizzarolli...?" Samara looked at him inquisitively with those big doe eyes and he shoved aside his anger for now with a huff. She needed help, and frankly so did he. It wouldn't be good for either of them if Robo Fizz fell into the wrong hands. It would be a downright fucking nightmare all around.

He dropped his hand and asked her gently "Did _'Fizz'_ notice it too?"

Hurt flickered across Samara's expression, and she wrung her tail between her hands nervously. "Yeah... he asked about it, and I...I..." she burst into tears and threw herself into his arms bawling, taking the jester demon off guard and almost knocking him over into a puddle of mystery liquid which he fortunately caught himself in time to avoid. His heart was freaking out and doing a cracked out mambo in his chest but outwardly he simply wrapped his long arms around her and let her cry it out. "I told him it was nothing, and that he wouldn't understand because he didn't have real feelings, _because he's a **robooot!**_ " She wailed into his shirt, gripping the bright satiny fabric in her small claws.

Fizzarolli winced, feeling even a tiny pang of sympathy for his double. " ** _Oof_** , oh wow geeze, Samara. I bet that didn't sit well with him." He said, awkwardly patting her head while she was still wracked with sobs and obvious guilt.

"That's when he ran off out of the c-car. He... he disappeared immediately into thin freaking air and no one's seen him since! I asked everyone!"

He took her by the shoulders again and pushed her back so she would look up at his face. "Hey hey hey. Stop wigging out. We'll find him. We have to, since it's both of our asses on the line. Mammon's temper gets _unruly_ when he loses money, and this would be his biggest loss ever. Let's talk about it somewhere else though okay?" She nodded, sniffling, and they walked back to the car, where the driver was thankfully still waiting for her. He'd been a real trooper and had promised not to rat Samara out, especially since it could come back on him as well for not locking the car doors. Fizzarolli directed him to a small apartment not overly far from Samara's. They rode their in silence with Samara's eyes still glued to the streets outside. Where could Fizz have gone? She hoped he was safe.


	8. Shower Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I promise to get back to Robo Fizz soon I promise ❤️. Buuut I gotta do a quick flashback for the next two chapters. Next chapter will be lemony, more than the last one even so you've been warned.. Love you guys!!!

She'd been to Fizzarolli's once before, but Samara didn't remember this place. They stepped inside and it looked normal for what she had expected. It just seemed like any bachelor's crash pad, messy and simple except for several circus posters taped haphazardly on the walls. When she asked about it he merely shrugged.

"Eh, I've still got my other place, but I pay for this one too so I can have a place to get away when I don't want to be fucked with. Sometimes I play hooky from work here. Don't tell Mammon about it, ya hear?"

Samara flopped onto the futon couch and kicked off her boots, crossing her taloned feet under herself. They were pretty sore after all of her running around today. "I wouldn't dream of it. You keep my secrets and I'll keep yours. Fair?"

He smirked, dropping down next to her and kicking his feet up on the cluttered coffee table, throwing his arm over the back of the futon near her. "It's a deal."

Her face lost all color and he instantly wanted to take back his choice of words. " _Oh, shit_. No _no_ , not like _that_. No demon deals, I promise! Just an agreement between friends and colleagues...and fuck buddies, 'Kay?"

She nodded, a small smile gracing her face and making his heat up. "Ok...thanks again Fizzarolli you're a real pal sometimes. So, any ideas where Fizz could have gone?"

He shrugged, picking at a loose thread in the futon by her shoulder. "I had some time to think on the drive and I'm pretty sure I know exactly where he went. I'm at least 90% sure. And he should be okay there for a little while. You should give him some space for a while before confronting him though. If he's anything like me and _no duh_ he is he needs a while to wind down. Now that he's been repaired he's also not exactly helpless. He's a big boy, Samara, you don't have to worry nearly as much as you do. Besides, you look like Hell...and _not_ in a good way! Rest up here for a couple of hours. You can use my shower and I'll order some food while you do that okay?"

Her smile got wider. She really did trust Fizzarolli more than most, though she had no idea why. He and Fizz were the two people in this world that could still make her smile or laugh sincerely, despite the unconventional beginning of their associations. "Okay."

Fizzarolli showed her to the bathroom and then left the room to go order a pizza and one of those big brownies you could get with them. A day like today called for junk food, and lots of it.

Samara finished washing off and sat in the middle of the tub, thinking and finally letting the day's events sink into her. Fizzarolli had said that Fizz would be safe for now and needed to calm down on his own and she believed him without question. Who would know better? They were entirely different men to her but they still came from the same base. She supposed she thought of them like twins- identical yet individual. He was right too, she'd needed time. Confronting Fizz even to apologize while worked up into a panic wouldn't have gone well. She wouldn't even know what to say...that was why she didn't just jump out of this shower, strangle the information out of Fizzarolli and run off into the night. Still, what a shitty day!

When he was finished with ordering food, Fizzarolli knocked softly on the bathroom door. "Samara! Pizza's on the way. You okay in there?" When the only answer he received was muffled sniffling, he chanced slipping inside. It was past dark now but the lights from the city outside shone through the window above the shower and silhouetted a curled up ball in the tub behind the curtain that was Samara. He peeked his head in slowly. Samara's white hair was draped around her like a sopping wet blanket, and she looked miserable. What _really_ bothered him was that he could see the darkened shadows of more bruises on the parts of her that weren't hidden. He didn't mention it though. That had gone poorly enough for his robotic counterpart. "Hey..."

She answered glumly, peeking up at him with those eerie, beautiful eyes. "Hey..."

"Havin' a good old-fashioned shower cry, huh?"

"I didn't want you to see me feeling sorry for myself again. It feels like all I ever do is cry these days. It's pathetic." She smacked the tub floor, which made a wet metallic _**thwack!**_

"We've all been there."

She looked surprised at that, and even more surprised when he asked

"Mind if I join ya?"

She scoffed. "It's your shower. You're asking _me_ permission?"

Fizzarolli stripped off his clothes and slipped in behind her, leaning against the back of the tub and pulling her back against him. His heart started its excited internal tango again and he cursed at it in his mind to shut the fuck up. It had really shit timing. It had been that way since he met her, since he'd accepted her company as extra 'payment' from Mammon that one night...

Samara let herself be held, her sorrow momentarily at bay in lieu of confusion. Before they'd met she always thought of Fizzarolli as exactly how he looked. Just an egotistical goofball in Mammon's employ to be a face for his products. But, here she was letting him comfort her again. And the only night they'd ever spent together had given a glimpse of a more complex individual than she'd previously assumed...

—————

_"That's a wrap people! Now get your jobs done and go the fuck home, you useless cogs!" The imp director called out, practically spitting into his megaphone. The harsh buzz signaling the end of shooting went off, jarring everyone. Then all of the set immediately began being packed up again. Fizzarolli stood up, dropping his spoon onto the fake kitchen table with a metallic clatter and spitting out the rest of the Greed Seeds he'd had in his mouth._

'Bird food _, **blech**!'_

_He spied his boss Mammon hovering around the director, who looked like he was going to shit his pants seeing the big guy himself here. It was pretty funny to watch, since otherwise the little imp acted like he was Napoleon or some shit. Talk about delusions of grandeur; it was a commercial for glorified millet for fuck's sake! Mammon was accompanied by a pink-skinned woman he'd never seen before, and honestly after getting an eyeful of her he thought that was a damn shame. She was a sight for sore eyes after a long day of this crap! This must be the famous assistant he'd heard so much about but had never met. Mammon liked keeping her close at hand, but somehow they'd just never crossed paths, mainly because Fizzarolli was already supervised enough. The most he'd communicated with her was through emails she dictated for their shared boss. Honestly, he barely had any time to take a shit by himself these days, between agents, guards, and fans._

_Mammon's assistant, though he couldn't recall her name to save his life, certainly dressed the part in shiny black heels, a pencil skirt with a daring slit up the thigh that just skirted the border of 'professional' and 'profane' and a tucked in fitted white & black vertically striped blouse with a sterling bolo tie in the shape of Mammon's logo, probably another way for the Greed Demon to mark something he felt he owned. She had waist-length snowy white hair with a soft wave, pulled back into a loose braid that she'd flipped over one shoulder, and was clutching a clipboard in her delicate claws. Her lips were painted matte black and she had done her makeup in an ode to jester themes, with thin lines running above and below her eyes over her silver eyeshadow down to her cheeks and up to her horned forehead, and one more similar line dropping from her full bottom lip to her chin. The rest of her makeup was more or less standard with that wing-style chicks seemed to like so much. He could see dark circles where she hadn't managed to cover enough though. Looked like he wasn't the only one Mammon kept going at a breakneck pace. Her eyes were all black save for white centers too...they looked pretty cool to him...all in all, he wished his assistant was that hot instead of a pestering imp that followed him around like a dog, constantly hounding him for appointments and meetings. Fizzarolli didn't realize he'd been staring until his own eyes flicked over to his boss, who was watching him with a sinister knowing smile. Uh-oh..._

_Mammon's voice carried across the room. "Fizzarolli, my star! My main attraction! Come over here, I want to have a word, and introduce you to my assistant." He waved him over, dismissing the director with a sharp command. Fizzarolli gulped but knew that for better or worse he didn't have much of a choice, so he shuffled over reluctantly. Mammon grabbed him as soon as he was within arms' reach and dragged him the rest of the way, beaming jovially and seemingly in a great mood. "Here we go! Fizzarolli, this is my personal assistant in all things, Samara. Samara, this is the famous Fizzarolli, my company's mascot."_

_Samara has to tilt her head back to look at this tall demon. Mammon had already told her why they were here, though she easily could have guessed. It wouldn't be the first time he'd tried to pawn her off to one of his more favored employees to pay them back in lieu of cold hard cash that he just couldn't let slip out of his clutches. He was way more reluctant to part with his bills than just sending her off for one night. So, this was to be her next 'assignment' should he not refuse the offer. Rarely, they had rejected the idea when they desperately needed the money to pay off one or more of the other loan sharks in town for gambling or drug-related debts. She'd seen pictures of Fizzarolli enough times; he was plastered all over nearly everything Greed after all. She'd always found him cute enough for a demon, frankly she could see why so many people had a crush, so at least this wouldn't be torture right? She stuck her hand out, feigning more confidence than she was feeling under his intense stare. "Nice to meet you!" She chirped happily, beaming up at the much taller man._

_Fizzarolli took the small hand she'd offered, but instead of shaking it he grasped her fingers and brought them up to his lips, kissing her hand. "You too. Nice to finally put a face to all those emails of yours with Mammon's orders."_

_Mammon clasped his arms around both of them, making them both jump and let go of each other, even though now their cheeks were pressed together almost painfully. "It's sooo nice to see my employees getting so chummy, which brings me to why we're here. Fizzarolli, you've worked a lot of overtime this month and I think you're due for a **reward**. I noticed you eyeing up Samara earlier **so** what do you say, my friend? Would an evening of her charming company suffice? I promise she doesn't disappoint!"_

_Fizzarolli never had any trouble finding someone if he wanted sex. He was so in demand that they'd equipped his double with all the necessary parts and rented him out to horny clients with deep pockets. His overtime pay would have been a substantial chunk with how much Mammon had been driving him lately, with sales at Loo Loo Land dwindling as the park fell more and more into neglect. And more money meant more fun. He could have paid a whole group of Hell's best hookers and rented out a whole strip club if he felt like scratching that itch. So, he had no idea what possessed his stupid mouth to open up and spit out the words "Sure boss, that sounds fantastic!"_

**'Goddamnit! What's gotten into me?!** '

_Seeing Samara's face, which looked miles away now as she stared over his shoulder, he opened his mouth to check with her to make sure she was really okay with this. He knew that look way too well. It was the look of someone resigning themselves to something they had no say in, and preparing to dissociate until it was done. He didn't get the chance to back out, however, as Mammon was already steering her off through the exit, having gotten the answer he'd wanted all along. "Glad you agree, Fizzarolli! Don't worry, you'll have a **grand** time together; I'll send her by this evening! You're free to go home for the day!"_


	9. Cotton Candy & Cigarettes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Author's note: Major smut warning! We're still in flashback here, so buckle up and get your glasses because it's lemonade time! Also please point out any errors as I wrote this on very little sleep.))

_Samara stood awkwardly in front of the door to Fizzarolli's huge apartment, clutching her coat around her. She wasn't exactly wearing a lot under it after all, and even in the foyer outside of the elevator she'd taken up to this penthouse suite, it was a bit brisk. She didn't have to wait long before Fizzarolli opened the door and let her inside. He seemed a little sheepish, but Samara didn't have much time to ponder that before her new surroundings took her focus away._

_"Oh_ WOW _!!!" She cried, unable to control her childlike glee as she bounced on her heels and clapped her hands. Fizzarolli had circus stuff everywhere. That was to be expected from a literal jester demon, but what Samara was geeking out over wasn't just that. It was the sheer amount of games he had everywhere. Arcade units, gaming consoles, everything you could imagine. He even had one of those dance pads with the arrows. Not the cheap plastic roll-out one either that always stuck to your feet and came up with you every step you tried to take, but the thick metal kind. She couldn't stop herself from rushing over to inspect it closer with a squeal, forgetting Fizzarolli's presence for the moment._

_"Well, welcome to my humble abode, I guess." He chuckled, feeling a little bit put at ease by her antics. He still wanted to talk to her but it could wai—"_ **Woah, what are you doing?!** _"_

_Samara had remembered why she was here when she heard him speak, and had started shrugging off her coat to reveal a black and red neglige edged with skull-patterned lace and complete with garter and fishnet stockings. She didn't figure she'd need to wear actual clothes tonight. These would probably end up in ribbons on the floor anyway. She quirked an eyebrow at him and stated so, matter-of-factly. Plus, if they did what she came here to do then maybe if there was time after he'd let her play one of these._

_"Okay yeah fair point. But, I wanted to talk to you about that so could you please put your coat back on? That's_ majorly distracting _!" Fizzarolli held one of his hands out to stop her, the other covering his eyes. He didn't trust himself to take that lovely vision in for one more second. He was already uncomfortably hard. She'd really caught him off-guard there!_

_Samara tied her coat back up and sat primly on the couch where he pointed blindly to, not looking until she assured him that yes, she'd redressed. What exactly was up with him? Normally she'd have been dragged off to the bedroom or just down onto the floor by now. Did she do something wrong? He'd seemed eager enough earlier today... She started to feel a little self-conscious..._

_Fizzarolli sat on the opposite side, facing her but with a comfortable distance between them. He let out a sigh and just spit out what he was thinking. "Look, I feel kinda shitty that I sort of just jumped at this without even talking to you first. I mean I'm fucking_ you _not_ him _and I tried to fix that earlier but Mammon obviously wasn't having it. I...know what it's like to not have a say in your life. Make no mistake, I want to fuck your brains out here and now, but if you **really** want me to, you can just go back home and I'll lie to Mammon tomorrow for you."_

_"You're giving me a..._ choice _???" Samara stared at him, absolutely at a loss for further words. She was shocked. No one had ever given her a way to opt out before, although if Mammon found out she'd shirked one of her duties her ass would be grass so it wasn't as much of a choice for either of them at this point, but still...wow..._

_He shrugged, "Well,_ yeah _. Look, you don't seem like most of the people around here. I may be a demon, and I'm_ **definitely** _not a good person but I'm not a damn **rapist**! I can fuck plenty of people who are into it, there's no way I'm forcing someone."_

_Samara sunk back into the couch. "Huh...I don't know what to say...no one's ever really considered how I feel about it before."_

_"Yeah, I can imagine."_

_Looking him up and down, Samara bit her lip in thought. After a moment, she jumped up, clapping her hands together. " **Alright**! How about this? Let me stay and play some of these awesome games you've got, and we'll see what happens okay? If we fuck, we fuck. If we don't, we don't. If we don't though we have to make it look convincing and hope to Hell Mammon doesn't find out. Does that sound like a plan?" She stuck her hand out for him to shake, which he did with no hesitation._

_Fizzarolli couldn't help but laugh. She had no idea how adorable she was. "Okay, okay. But, you better not be a sore loser because I'm going to win_ _**every** _ _time!"_

_She stuck her tongue out at him, planting her hands on her hips. "Yeah right, in your dreams_ clown boy _!"_

_A couple of hours, and quite a few types of alcohol later, Samara and Fizzarolli were stumbling around on his dance mat, which could fit up to two players. Neither was particularly graceful at this point. They looked like newborn deer. Samara was falling badly behind on her score, having lost her equilibrium somewhere around shot number seven. She was pissed because she'd told him a little of her past in the circus and about her history of dance when she'd boldly claimed he wouldn't be able to get ahead of her in a dancing game. A plan formed in her mind, and she side-eyed the jester beside her devilishly._

'Hehehe, let's see what he thinks of _this!_ '

_Fizzarolli stuck his own striped tongue out at her, taunting "I'm gonna win!! Nothing you can do about it now, sweet cheeks! Hey, Samara what are you- **oh not again!!** "_

_Samara cackled evilly and chucked her now abandoned coat off into the corner before turning her focus back to the game at hand. Her breasts bounced with every move that required a jump, and Fizzarolli almost fell flat on his ass. She kept laughing the whole time, clearly pleased with how well her little plan had worked._

_"What's wrong, Fizzarolli? I thought you said you were going to win! You can't dance with just your ass! Well, maybe you can but this isn't a twerking game!" The song finished with Samara barely beating him by a few hundred points. Her victory cheering was cut short by Fizzarolli tackling her and tickling her sides. She shrieked and wriggled under his hands, kicking her legs out to no avail on the floor._

_"That was a **dirty trick!** " He griped, pinning her down with her hands over her head. Her expression shifted from amusement to something more sultry, and she swung her legs around his waist, pulling her hips up into his._

_"I've got more dirty tricks up my sleeve you know...all you've got to do is say_ the fucking word _and I'm allll yours for the night. **My choice.** Well, as much as it can be." She lifted her head up and kissed him deeply, moaning when he grasped the back of her head with one hand to hold her in place, and dancing his tongue along with her own in a slow waltz. There was a sweet scent to him this close, of cotton candy which suited him perfectly, mixed with cigarette smoke that still hovered around him. She hadn't seen him smoke yet but it didn't surprise her. She herself took breaks at work to have a few puffs, especially on stressful days. She breathed it in when she came up for air, gazing up with glossy eyes at the demon still on top of her, who was very obviously turned on._

_Fizzarolli's pulse slammed through him and his stomach squirmed. The alcohol did absolutely Jack shit to help him too. He dove back into another kiss, drunk on her touch as much as the booze, and growled against her mouth **"The fucking word!"**_

_They both laughed, and Samara let him pull her up and lead her to his bedroom where they tumbled unceremoniously into the sheets, Fizzarolli quickly divesting himself of his clothes. His skin really was as white as his face, and Samara traced her nails across it in wonder. It might even be paler than her hair. The only part that wasn't was his face, which was flushed from being buzzed and from her touching him. Samara licked her lips hungrily and without warning flipped him onto his back, crawling up between his legs and taking his already achingly hard cock in her hands. She stroked a few times experimentally and smirked when he hissed in his breath and almost arched off the mattress. She slowly lowered her mouth and flicked her tongue out, catching a salty bead of precum that had beaded up at his tip. Then she took him fully into her mouth and started a slow, teasing rhythm, sucking diligently on him and adjusting her speed and angle to see what he liked best._

_Fizzarolli's head was swimming. He was in fucking **heaven**! Well, demon heaven anyway. No way could the actual thing be this fun! His breathing was ragged and rogue moans slipped past his lips when she'd hit a particularly good spot. "Mmmmm Samara. That mouth is magical" he encouraged her, gripping her hair, which had come loose from its braid earlier in the night, loosely in one hand. He couldn't gather enough focus to do much besides enjoy her sweet torture as she had her way with him. When she had dangled him over the edge of orgasm, keeping him barely from being able to gain release, he let out a stream of vulgar curses and rolled her over, switching their places and slipping her long legs over his shoulders after peeling off every bit of her ensemble. The underwear he'd taken off with his teeth, which had been especially fun. He stared down at this beautiful sight now that she was fully bared in front of him, drinking in her figure & her face. She was looking up at him expectantly, biting her finger coyly. "_ **Goddamn little minx!** _" He chuckled and drove himself deeply into her, satisfied when she cried out in pleasure when he filled her._

_Sparks danced behind Samara's eyes, which had shut on their own when Fizzarolli entered her. She'd been teasing herself as much as she had been him. Her body had been screaming at her for a while now to just grab him and sit on his cock. God, was it worth the wait though! He kept her legs on his shoulder and nibbled his way up one calf, raking his nails down her sides. "Oh God, Fizzarolli!" She screamed, lost in ecstasy. He leaned over and caught one of her breasts, lathing his tongue over her sensitive nipple. The added sensation drove her crazy, and she left nail marks of her own all down his back, interrupting the ivory flesh with angry red crisscross lines. He shifted around until he found the perfect angle that produced high-pitched, keening whines from Samara, who pawed at him desperately, whether to get him to continue or wait she wasn't even sure anymore. It was too much and not enough all at once, and when she came crashing over the edge the first time, with his name on her lips like a prayer, she found she wasn't spent and ready to stop. She needed **more** , she needed the whole night filled with just him and her, so she pushed him over onto his back again and sank onto his cock before he could protest. Not that he would have, judging by the way his eyes rolled back in his head and his hands clamped onto her hips to pull her down even further. Balancing squatted on her toes, straddling him, Samara rode Fizzarolli mercilessly, her ass rippling with each bounce. Looks like there had been a twerking game tonight after all. Fizzarolli's toes curled and he whispered all manner of nasty promises into her ear, kissing her neck, up her jaw, and her lips all the while. Fuck money, if Mammon wanted to send her over for his every paycheck he'd never complain! Let the ancient bastard keep his cash. Samara was a treasure._

_He felt himself getting close, and rolled them once more, pinning her down and fucking her for all he was worth, his lips barely leaving hers and their bodies all but melted together in the heat of their shared passion. Sweet nothings were whispered, passed back and forth between entangled tongues and soon enough Fizzarolli felt his entire body seize up, pumping erratically into Samara until every drop of him was spent inside of her. He called her name, loudly enough that Samara briefly felt a pang of sympathy for his downstairs neighbors, and the raw lust in his voice and actions sent her spiraling once more into blissful oblivion._

_They lay together afterward for an untold amount of time in comfortable silence, with Samara resting her head on his still-heaving chest. She peeked up through her lashes at him. "Fizzarolli, I've got to go soon. The driver will be here soon, and I've got to be at work tomorrow."_

_He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back against him when she made to leave. "C'mon, stay. I can drive you tomorrow. I'll go downstairs and tell the driver that you're staying the night with me."_

_Samara's heart was torn. She wanted more than anything to stay here, with this handsome demon and his snarky wit and fun games...and mind blowing sex. This had been a wonderful distraction from her every day prison sentence. But... "Shit, I **can't**. I want to... but Mammon gets weird about me staying the night when he hasn't ordered it and he specifically told me to go home with the driver. The driver wouldn't keep this a secret either, not with the chance he could get into trouble for helping me...I'm sorry..." she let herself be pressed against him for a few moments longer before resuming her exit from the bed. She tossed on her ensemble and padded out into the living room to find her coat._

_"Here..." Fizzarolli came behind her and slipped it over her shoulders, giving her neck a few more lingering kisses and a couple of hickeys for the road. For some reason, a deep and petty part of him wanted Mammon to see them and be pissy. He should feel grateful to his boss for this opportunity to begin with but instead all he was filled with was a weird sense of being robbed of something precious._

_"Thanks." She smiled back at him, scooping her hair up into a lazy bun and tying her only real cover back up. She slipped her feet into the shoes she'd left at the door and turned back to him. "I really don't want to go, but duty calls, ya know?" With that she blew him a kiss and left, her legs feeling like lead the whole way, and her heart even heavier. His scent had rubbed off on her clothes and hair. She sniffed her coat._

'Yup. Cotton candy and cigarettes. _' The memory made her smile._

_"Yeah..." Fizzarolli murmured after her as he watched her walk away from him, peering through the window as she made it out to the car and it pulled away into the darkness. This had been the best night he'd had in years, so why did he feel so fucking empty? His bright and cheery apartment had quickly lost its old luster. Now, it felt about as warm and welcoming as a tomb. He put his hand to the glass. "Bye..."_


	10. Of Pizza, Love, & Apologies

The doorbell buzzed and Fizzarolli yanked himself out of thoughts of the past, as did Samara.

"Must be the pizza..." he murmured absently, tapping Samara's shoulder so she'd scoot up and let him out. He stepped out and dried off with a towel, wrapping it around his head, the bells on the hat he never took off (and Samara often wondered if it wasn't just a part of his head) jingled merrily against the fluffy cotton. "I'll go get it! You take your time."

Samara was already standing up. "Oh like hell! I'm starving, I feel like I ran a marathon today."

He sauntered out into the living room and threw open the door, unashamedly baring all to a terrified delivery boy. "Thanks _buddy_!" He tipped the guy and then wiggled his eyebrows at him. "You sure you don't want any _other_ tips?"

The delivery guy screamed and fled down the hall, and Fizzarolli felt a lump of wet cloth thwack him in the side of the head.

"Ow, **_bitch!!!_** "

Samara had thrown it at him and was now doubled over howling with laughter, and he was ever so slightly disappointed to see she was wearing her outfit again except for shoes and with her damp hair pulled back into its ponytail.

"You...are just _awful_! Have you no _shame_?" She scolded him when she could catch her breath, diving onto the couch and ripping open the steaming boxes he'd placed on the coffee table. He grabbed a piece of pizza and stuffed it into his mouth. _Extra cheese...yummy!_

"No way. Shame is for squares. And why should I hide this _glorious sexiness_ from the world? Kid's lucky, most people have to pay extra for that kind of show!" He spoke through huge bites of hot, doughy goodness.

"I didn't have to." She pointed out, shoving his shoulder playfully.

He shoved back with a little more force, almost toppling her as she reached for her third slice. "Well, I make exceptions for you because you're special. You're one lucky lady!"

She sighed, chewing thoughtfully. "Yeah I'll consider myself _lucky_ again once I find Fizz and once he doesn't hate me anymore."

He patted her knee gently, apologizing for the greasy fingers on her clothes. "Hey, he doesn't hate you. Who could hate _you_? Especially after one bad snap? We all get them. You think my life is all sunshine and rainbows? Cotton candy dreams and all that shit? _Everyone_ has their bitch days, Samara. Especially someone who's gone through the things that you have, and you haven't even told me everything, I can see it in your eyes. There's a _lifetime's_ worth of pain in there for somebody who died so young..."

"Thanks, Fizzarolli. You really are pretty amazing."

He beamed at her words, making a grandiose bow and flourishing fancily with his pizza. "I aim to please! Speaking of which, here have some of this bomb-ass brownie!"

When the food was finished, Samara looked at her phone. It was late, she needed to find Fizz now. It had been long enough. He couldn't stay out overnight, it was too dangerous. "Okay, so you said you're pretty sure you know where Fizz went?" She asked Fizzarolli, who was leaned back and rubbing his new 'food baby' belly.

He peered over at her through half-lidded eyes, fighting off the idis. Maybe he should have ordered a medium pizza. "There's only one other home he knows, Samara."

She gasped then hit herself in the forehead. "Oh my God, **_duhh!!_** Holy shit how could I not think of that?! _Of course_ he went back to Loo Loo Land!" She strapped her boots on, jumped up, and tried to tug him by the hand. He didn't budge. "C'mon we've got to go get him! It's not super far!"

He held up his hands. "I can't come with you, Samara. I want to, but think about it. If you told him he couldn't feel _real_ feelings, then how shitty would it be to bring _me_ along? You can take this with you." He pulled out a small pistol and pressed it to her palm. "Be careful, it's loaded. Things get even more nuts at night, and all kinds of looters would love to catch someone like you alone in the park. I wish I could do more to keep you safe but if he sees me, he'll just run again and I won't know where to look next. You're a survivor Samara. You'll be fine."

She looked at him strangely, and he whipped his head around, trying to find anything else she could be staring at.

"What? _What?_ Am I growin' another head or something?"

"I've just...never seen you so _serious_ before."

"Well it's not every day a multimillion dollar Greed investment goes missing, _with my face_. I'm not always 100% goofball."

She smiled and leaned down, kissing his cheek gently. "I owe you so much, Fizzarolli. I don't know what I'd do without you!" She picked up her phone and dialed the driver, who'd stayed close just in case.

When she left he was alone again, after sending her back to another man as usual, except this time it was his own Robo-clone. His chest felt tight, and he was pretty sure it wasn't a pending heart-attack from the _horrendous_ amount of junk he'd just consumed. No, he was almost certain he knew exactly what this was. He'd gone and fallen in love with his boss's assistant. " _Fucking **classic.**_ " He groaned, slipping further down onto the futon and just falling asleep there. He'd deal with his feelings, hmmm, _never_. He decided stubbornly. No need to make this any worse and more complicated than it was. _Nope. No way..Bad idea, Fizzy._

————————————————————

Robo Fizz sat with his head propped up on one hand at the old piano that was miraculously still intact on his wrecked stage, just a bit covered in ash and debris and a tad wobbly. He'd even managed to switch on a few of the old lights, which cast rainbow shards all over the remainder of his old life. He tapped a claw rhythmically against the instrument's lacquered surface, his thoughts sour and dark. Now that he'd had time to process his sadness it had all just turned to bitter anger instead. He'd really trusted Samara. He thought she was different and that she saw him as himself. _But, boy was he ever wrong!_ She was just like everyone else in his life. She was in it for selfish reasons; the money, the job, and for _survival_. He had been dumped on her by Mammon under more threats, so why had he ever thought she _cared_? Frustrated, he plunked around on the old keys for a while until a jazzy, fast-paced tune formed out of the random notes... _Hmmmm_... Robo Fizz took a deep breath and began to sing in his raspy, throaty voice. They might have programmed most of his songs in but he still had thoughts of his own damnit! He didn't need Mammon, Samara, and _especially_ not that damned _'rEaL_ ' Fizzarolli!

_I thought that I was something special_

_I thought that I was a bright shiny star_

_Now all the lights and all the applause_

_They all seem so blurry and so damn far_

_Memories fading like the colors_

_Of this shredded busted old **stupid tent!** _(He kicked a rock with his foot and sent it flying off somewhere, causing a distant crash)

_But if they stick me back on a stage_

_I might just tell 'em all to **go get bent**!_

_Why should I be your clown?_

_Why should I flip your frown?_

_When you throw me to the ground_

_like a broken toy_

_If you bring me down I won't bring you  
  
_ _joy_

_You don't really care 'cuz I'm not **him**_

_You all want the real thing & that ain't _

_**me**!_

_Everything we said was just a whim_

_You'd never look my way if you were free_

_I won't dance or be your puppet_

_If you try to make me you can shove it_

_You think I can't feel but I do feel..._

_That you're just full of shit!_

_And **babe** I'm over it!_

_So why don't you just **GET?!**_

With the last line, Fizz stood up and chucked the stool into what was left of the stands. He heard a startled yelp and his entire system recoiled at the voice then at the figure that lifted the tent flaps and walked in, staring at him timidly. She hadn't even changed clothes since the night before. She must have been looking so long she didn't even go home yet. _Oh well!_

" ** _OooooooOOOOH_** - _ **hoho**_ well _look_ who it is! Mammon's favorite lapdog! Come to drag me back? Here to save your own ass and fetch me back to your boss man like a _good bitch?_ "

Samara flinched at the insults and at his tone but she didn't back off. Instead she perched herself in one of the stands that hadn't been burned away or attacked by the stool and folded her hands in her lap. "Yeah I deserved that...No Fizz...I'm here to apologize to you."

He scoffed and paced angrily on the stage, metallic footsteps echoing around them and kicking up dust. "Yeah what even for? Seems to me like back in the car you just finally said what was _really_ on your mind. I mean it's on everyone else's!"

" _That's not true!_ "

He whirled around and turned on her, clamping his claws down until they splintered the wood and leaning menacingly over the stage, over her. "Yeah then what is?! **Because I thought I knew you!** " He yelled, his voice becoming downright Hellish towards the end.

Samara squeezed her eyes shut and yelled back "I didn't want you to know what happened because I didn't want you to look at me like everyone else does, as just a **whore** who fucks her boss to get by!!"

He leaned back, puzzled. He cocked his head an entire 360 degrees on his shoulders. She'd snapped at him because she was afraid of what he would think of her? "You...were worried that _I_ would think _you_ were a whore? Samara, for _fuck's_ sake, literally, haven't you pieced it together? Mammon rents me out too! Why do you think I'm machine washable, just because of grubby-fingered kiddies?? If anything we're _both_ whores. How could I _ever_ judge you?"

She stared at him in disbelief, then with an elated cry she charged up the stage and threw herself into his arms, letting him lift her up and spin her around, giggling when he made her dizzy. " _I missed you so much_ , I was so worried! If Fizzarolli hadn't told me where you probably were I don't know if I would have found you!"

He held her at arm's length, squinting at her suspiciously. "Wait, you told _him_ I was missing?"

She looked sheepish, tugging at her tail like she often did when feeling shy. "No, not really. He saw me running around like a crazy person downtown asking about you and put it together. He made me clean up and eat before I found you, said to give you time... Will...will you come home now? It's late and you shouldn't be out here..."

" _Home_?" Fizz stared at Samara. His ears must be malfunctioning. He had a checkup next week so he'd better put that on his list of complaints because there was no way she meant what she was saying. "You sure you want me to come back? You don't prefer the _'real thing'_? Because I'm pretty sure original me has the hots for you too, stalking you like that. I mean if we're identical and a—" he clamped his mouth shut, deciding to have the mechanic weld it that way permanently because he had just said _entirely_ too much.

An impish grin spread Samara's lips wide. "You have the _hots_ for little old me?" She batted her eyes at him.

He decided the safest course of action was to play it off as a joke, nothing serious. _Nope! Not a crush at all, just harmless flirting!_ "Hey, _I_ am a manbot of impeccable taste, so of course I recognize that _you_ are one fine piece of demon babe!" He whistled flirtatiously, tracing her curves in the air with his hands to emphasize his point.

She laughed and let him twirl her again, overjoyed to have her Fizz back to his normal, crazy self. She leaned her head on his chest. "To answer your question, I don't know what I feel for Fizzarolli. That's a mystery for another day, all I know is that he's my friend, totally bailed me out today, and one of the only people I let myself trust besides you. _But_ , I do know how I feel about you and I consider you guys two completely different people! You'll never be just _'The Robotic Fizzarolli_ ' to me. You're your own person. I'm so sorry I ever made you feel like you weren't, or repeated the _bullshit_ other idiots said."

"I'll forgive you on one condition. If _you_ forgive _meee_ for calling you a bitch! That was out of line. You can slap me if ya want, but you might break your hand."

She squeezed him tightly. "Donezo. Except for the slapping part, I like my hand the way it is, not pulverized thanks. Now come on, we need to get back to the apartment..." she trailed off when a piece of gravel hit her shoulder and she looked up. She started to scream when several figured dropped down from the ceiling, one of them grabbing her up and putting a knife to her throat.

Fizz stopped midway into spinning at them when he saw Samara get grabbed. She saw this and shook her head, yelling at him "Don't worry about me, Fizz! _Just do it!_ They can't kill me permanently with stupid normal weapons! _**Kick their asses!**_ " He didn't move, only stared on in mounting horror. "Fizz, why aren't you moving? _Get them!_ I know you can do it!"

Dark laughter poured out of a dark corner, and a tall imp stepped out of the shadows. "Well, well. Aren't we the feisty one, Samara? But, I'd take a closer look at that blade if I were you."

Samara cursed as her captor dangled the weapon mockingly in front of her eyes for her to inspect. Sure enough, it was the sawn off head of an angel's spear! " _ **SHIT!**_ "

The imp, who was decked out like his brethren, of which there were about six, in high-grade tactical gear, clapped his hands slowly. "You figured out your position. _Very good!_ Now I hope you'll both play nicely. I've got several important bidders who would _love_ to fight over both of you!" Fizz and Samara looked at each other helplessly as the group broke into raucous laughter...


End file.
